If This Flag Offends You…..

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I was born and raised an American as many can claim. Many people flock to America illegally to live the American Dream that only the illegals can live. Coming from far and wide from countries all over the planet people come to America because America is Safe, America hands out everything at American’s expense, America is the Land of Opportunity, America is Great – The Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave.

Yet, in many subdivisions, in towns across America, on the sides of houses across America and on T-shirts, The American Flag offends these immigrants that arrive to America illegally to live here on a daily basis.

The American Flag Offends Them!

There has been meetings, at schools, towns, subdivisions and every possible place across America of these illegal immigrants with their own beliefs and religions, which is fine, stating that their American neighbor who happens to be a veteran is flying the American Flag on their house and it needs to be taken down, because it offends them. Our public schools no longer allow American Flag T-shirts to be worn during Cinco de Mayo where I live because it is politically incorrect and is offensive? Am I still in America?

America was founded on Immigration, America is a melting pot of people from many lands. America is now the place to be when they flee their homelands for one reason or ten.

I don’t care if they have a different religion or dress different than I do, they are people like I am, however, they came to our country remember? They came here and don’t have to live by our laws, by our rules, and we are told we must change our ways so they aren’t offended, remember?

Certainly if it was the other way around I would have to learn another language and abide by the rules of another country if I moved to another country. So, what is the difference in moving to America? Has America become so lax in trying to appease everyone that does not belong here legally the Government forgets who America really is?

I’ll hang my American Flag, wear my American Flag T-shirt and paint my house red, white and blue if I want to. I am an American and proud of it. People who flock here by the thousands to get away from their oppression should be happy they are here and start abiding by America’s rules.

When our ancestors came here, they were so glad to be free. They worked hard, and did what they needed to, to become citizens. They started businesses, had their children, and they served in our armed forces. Now when someone comes here, they may not work, because they get so many free things. They never had it so good. Now they have time to look for trouble, and do not appreciate what they have, as they didn’t have to work for it. When things are just given to us, not only do we not appreciate those things, we don’t especially care about the giver, either. In this case, the U.S. and it’s citizens. Everyone loses.

We are hurting ourselves as a culture because there’s strength in diversity. If we all just water down our beliefs to the point where no one ever gets offended then what will those beliefs really be worth? The flag of the United States of America belongs on every building, balcony, and yard in this country. It belongs EVERYWHERE. It belongs to US, the people of the United States. Anyone who believes it is offensive should turn around, hop on a bus, plane or boat to return to their country and stay there.

The Stars and Stripes belongs to each of us: We The People. It is OURS; it is not for the foreigners who are offended by its presence. If we must defend it now against those who hate the sight of the freedom it represents, then so be it. From the first stitches of the first flag to the flag we have today, it remains a symbol of liberty and makes a powerful statement. We cannot allow the offenses of a few to kill the rights of the many.

Kate, 42, Widow USMC, Mother of three, McAllen Texas (via email 18 Oct 2014)

After reading Kate’s email this afternoon I realized that I’m not the only one pissed off at the way this country is being fucking ripped apart. I have curbed my opinions for along time here on this blog and I’m done with all the heavy petting, its time to fuck. Y’all are fucking right I have some anger issues when it comes to the America hating fucks who are offended by all things American but won’t go home. What’s your fucking point? I’m 46 years old, an Air Force disabled veteran, and I’ve seen a allot of bullshit in my life so far. I’m watching the absolute decline of The United States of America and I’m really worried for the outcome of our country. My three children and my granddaughter will be paying the price long after I’m dead, and so will your children and grandchildren. Think on that one for just a bit. I’m watching America commit collective suicide by twice electing a clearly unqualified, foreign born, anti-American joke to the highest office in the land. I’m watching people pour across our borders openly and to a welcoming government. I’ve watched politicians of both parties who are paid to destroy this country every single fucking day. Immigrants used to want to assimilate, now they demand that we respect their beliefs while they take a shit on our beliefs, our traditions, and our country. If the American flag offends you then why are you even in this country? Doesn’t your country give away all the great free shit?

If you’re an immigrant to America and want to live in this country learn to speak English. That’s what immigrants used to do. My German and Scandinavian ancestors had to do it why can’t immigrants today do it? If you think this country sucks and your country is so great, why are you still fucking here? This is The United States of America, where we fly the Stars & Stripes, you left your country and now you want our country to be like your country, fuck no and fuck you, now just go home.

And to you pieces of shit sheeple “Americans” who tolerate this bullshit and say we need to be “more tolerant” and “all cultures are equal” can pucker up and kiss my motherfucking ass. What the fuck is tolerant about being offended by Americans and the American flag? You’re right, not one fucking thing.

And you fucktards in the main stream media propaganda arm of the democratic party who have turned a blind eye to what the government is doing to this country should be ashamed for even thinking you are patriotic Americans. But how well you fucking sleep at night under the protection of the flag of our nation you hate so much. Where is your outrage as our government tears up the Constitution and uses it as toilet paper? When the obituary is written for this country within the next 50 years, you fuckheads should be named as the cause of her death. You allowed a foreign born person to be elected to the highest office in the land all because you wanted the first black president so you could have the fucking ratings on your network. How’s that shit working out for you? Sleep well bitches, you’re welcome.

I will say it’s a sad state of affairs when we have so many people who live in this grand land of opportunity, this wonderful country, who hate and despise everything American. Its real fucking sad indeed. Now you America haters can kiss my ass, at least I know when I go to sleep tonight it will be with a clear conscience.

Now I’m Just A Little Fucking Pissed

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I hope the right motherfuckers are going to be reading this post because I have a message for you that you motherfuckers need to listen to and understand. I reference three physical letters of response I received yesterday after I spent hours, many of them months ago, filling out forms, questionnaire, social surveys, household income surveys, military background questionnaires, background checks, applications, and residency verification. Thanks for allowing me to waste my fucking time and your time. I look back now at the time it took y’all to process everything and see why people are frustrated with the fucking wait. Y’all fuckers want to know what is super fucked up? I qualified for the three services I applied for based on my income, employment status, and residency according to all three of the assistance organizations legal standards. I think I get the picture tho, because I really find it to be racial, because NO other reasons were given, unless “we’re sorry you were not qualified for assistance” is a reason. Is it because I’m white that assistance isn’t available? Since I’m white I shouldn’t be unemployed? Is that why we need me to list my race? Is that the first page y’all fucks look at?

Personally, now that a clear stance has been made, I’m beginning to understand what many people say these days, and that is that you need me to have a job because so many depend on my paycheck. I’ve been busting my ass working since I was 14, to include my time in the Air Force and the last fifteen years since I got out of the military. For what exactly? To be told by people who hide behind a form letter that because I’m white I don’t qualify for financial aid or any kind of anything, not even food stamps, nothing. That’s fucking great, I understand now that I am not allowed into the elite group because I’m not an alcoholic, drug dependant, I don’t have excess children with different last names, I’m legal to be in the United States, I’m white, I’m not a felon, I own my guns legally, I am a disabled veteran, and I’ve never received anything in any form of prior assistance. What exactly does it take for help for a white man when I’m in need? I could really do with less go fuck yourself letters!

But why should you give a flying fuck about me? Did I not donate to your political party? Do I not support the government your way? Is it because I speak English and don’t believe I need to push “1” for English? Why? Being white and speaking English seems to be holding me back. Oh, yea, btw, I appreciate all of my original paperwork y’all sent me to fill out being in Spanish, it was a real pleasure contacting your offices to have forms sent to me in English. I’m bet my German last name really fucking confused you fucktards. Or is it just the government standard to shotgun blast out Spanish forms in hopes of identifying potential illegal voters? Don’t worry, I’m not the only one that knows that even dead or fictional characters get to vote, receive government assistance, and are signed up for obamacare. But as long as there are politicians and government offices it is only going to get worse. But fuck, why do you care, you got a job, a paycheck, and get to fuck with people’s lives for entertainment. Yay you!

Sadly, like the voices of many legal American citizens, my voice remains muted. I’m the wrong color living in the wrong state to to quality for anything more than being on a mailing list. Let’s not forget, you overly arrogant motherfuckers, that y’all sent me the initial bullshit in the mail offering the assistance, I did not seek you out. Who would of thought sending shit to a person with a German last name would have result in that person being white? Do I think our system is fucking broke? Yes. Do I think this system is racist? Yes. Do I personally think it will ever change? Not in my fucking lifetime it won’t. So fuck you, that’s why, I will figure something out.

Why We Germans Don’t Play Scrabble

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Growing up with an expert fluent German speaking grandmother the first thing I found strangely fascinating about the German language was that a single word could go on and on until you ran out of breath or got totally lost in the middle of that word. Luckily for me she lived with us while I was in high school, I was taught more German at home than my teacher ever knew. It was absolutely fantastic watching her struggling while having to look things up! Here is a super simple and easy example, Geschwindigkeitsbeschränkungen, all 30 letters of it, a very big word for a fairly simple idea (it means speed limits).

To people who disparage German and praise the Latin-based languages as more creative, easier to learn and more likely to be useful, I simply reply: ah yes, but how many words of 30 letters or more do they have? Can they render complex ideas, such as a person who wears gloves to throw snowballs (Handschuhschneeballwerfer) or a man who pees sitting down (Sitzpinkler) in one deliciously singular word? Several editions of the Guinness Book of Records list Donaudampfschiffahrtselektrizitätenhaupt-betriebswerkbauunterbeamtengesellschaft, (why, the association for subordinate officials of the head office management of the Danube steamboat electrical services, of course) as the longest compound in the German language, even if there’s no evidence that such an association ever existed in real life.

Shops get in on the act as well, like the one above: Fussbodenschleifmaschinenverleih, I’m reliably informed, this is the place to turn to if you need your wooden floors sanded down.

German compound nouns are just about the best thing about any European languages. Sometimes they can result in three of the same letter butting up against each other (Schifffahrt, journey on a ship, which looks so wrong but isn’t, and seeerfahren, skilled at navigating, which is what you’ll need to be on a Schifffahrt, or else you might bump into a Seeelephant or, if you’re very unlucky a Schneeeule).

Sometimes they can be pure poetry, a far better way of saying the boring things of their English equivalent (Schnellschrauber = power drill). Sometimes they can help you understand other languages and the nature of matter itself (Sauerstoff = oxygen = bitter thing).

So this entite post is a celebration of the best of the German language, something rarely spoken in my own home now or by me and the opportunity for you to share your personal favorite compound noun. Neologisms are always welcome. Don’t forget to spell your word correctly and let us all know what the word means, or there’ll be Leserkommentarspaltenhöllenlärm (all hell breaking loose in the comments).

Why I Had To Play My Dad Card

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Normally I try very hard to keep my “dad card” tucked away in my wallet. There are times, though, I have to raise the bullshit flag and call it the way I see it. I give allot of trust to my children still living at home because, in general, they give me no reasons not to trust them. Sometimes, when the line gets crossed, it gets worked out without too many hard feelings. But not this time, this time its different for some reason. So, let me start with the way it all started. My 17 y/o volunteered to drive my 12 y/o son to the mall so he could spend his money that he had been saving on a new game for the Xbox 360. Now, I wasn’t aware what game was purchased at the time and had not seen the game in question played until this past weekend. The only reason I saw it then is because they where in the living room since the Xbox 360 is connected to the 70″ HD television in there. Still, no problem, they play games there every day. Anyhow, I took a seat in my recliner looking to hopefully catch a nap but the very graphic images and very racially graphic language caught me a little off guard, prompting me to inquire what game it was that they were playing. Very nonchalantly my son replies by telling me it is Grand Theft Auto 5. I watched him play for about 5 more minutes and then I instructed him to turn it off, put the game in the case, and set it on the end table next to me.

In a very disgruntled way he complied with my request. Then we talked for a minute, and then he headed off to his room to get ready for bed. My daughter remains behind along with my wife, who decided that my actions needed to be questioned.  My daughter explained what she knew about the game from the times she spent playing it, some of the ins and outs, and the general just of the game. This prompted me to do some reading online and to me eventually playing the game with my daughters assistance. I was not and remain not impressed with the game. Now, readers here know I don’t have the cleanest language. The bad language on the game only started bothering me when I got to thinking about the age of my son and how I really didn’t want him repeating any of the racially charged comments in the company of any human being. He isn’t raised being a racist dumbass and I will prevent it from happening any way I can. I could get into the morality of the game, which is about lieing, cheating, killing, stealing, and of course, car jacking. In the end, the game is pretty influential in the overboard glorification of some very negative behaviors in our society. The game is rated M for Mature Audiences, not 12 year olds. Personally I don’t see the draw to the game in any regard.

The verdict? Well, since an open game cannot be returned to the retailer I gave my son what he paid for it. He was also given some stricter guidelines and was told the next time I will not be as generous. Don’t mistake me for some kind of purest prude, because I am not, but I am a father who wishes to help my kids become proactive individuals in our modern society. The damn internet and television do not raise my children nor are they my children’s babysitter. With that being said, I know they have good heads on their shoulders and I know they wouldn’t take the game too seriously, but don’t think it is an appropriate game for any age. Now I have this stupid game which I will NOT be putting for sale on eBay but will instead be using for target practice the next time I head out. My opinion? Fuck this game. Save your “the game is harmless” comments for someone else because I don’t want to read them.

The Insanity Of Too Many Choices

insanityofchoices.jpgSometimes I open my e-mail to find wonderful things to write about. This one was pretty interesting because someone is e-mailing me wanting to know if she can 1) be my guest blogger, 2) tell me a story about her magic weekend which changed her life, and 3) to remind me I didn’t talk to everyone when I worked at Club X. She went on to remind me that she guesses she is one of the people who fell through the cracks because she wasn’t a stripper like the rest of them. But, she does know me, I do know her, and she knows that I write about stories told to me as a bartender. However, here is the catch, we never spoke in person much at all. She mentions that she has been trying to track down my e-mail address for sometime now since not only did I quite bartending at Club X but I also shut down that blog and moved all the stories over her sub-categorized under “Scorpion Sting’s Bartender Stories”. So, I can see how I might have been a little bit hard to find. Anyway, long story short, she has asked to tell her story and how it all came full circle a few weekends ago. I think it is a fantastic idea. I think it is a fantastic story. Now, be warned, the story is colorful, explicit, uses coarse adult language, and her story describes explicit adult oriented situations. If you are good with that then we should move forward to her story. Let me introduce Lynn, pictured, 23 years old, model, waitress, and really has a way with words.

“All through high school I was a model. There were some jobs that I didn’t really want to do but the payout was ten times what I was making modeling teen bathing suits. As time progressed I met different photographers who offered different amounts of money depending if I wanted to add pictures to their private collection. I learned the term ‘being used’ really fast because I was getting used quite a bit before I figured out I didn’t have to and I had choices to do otherwise. Probably the first bad choice I made was to let myself be photographed completely in the nude. You might be asking why. If you are asking why it was because I was 16 at the time, still in high school, still living at home with my parents and siblings, and if it had ever got out then it would have been the death of me, and I’m serious about that. The second bad choice was the night after that shoot that I broke into the photographer’s office, stole all the media storage devices I could find, destroyed all of his cameras, a wrecked the place beyond recognition. No, I didn’t get caught. Yes, I did retrieve the media device. Do I know if it was downloaded? No, still to this day I don’t know. We will get back to this photographer later.

Right after graduation I moved from my hometown of Raleigh North Carolina to Houston Texas to take a modeling gig that a model headhunter promised me would be available. I found a decent one room apartment that wasn’t too expensive that I thought I would be able to afford. I contacted the agency to find out appearance dates and I was told the project had been delayed by at least 8 months. All I could think was what in the fuck am I going to do for 8 months. How will I pay for this fucking apartment. How will I eat. I quickly searched around the local media to see if there was anything else hot going on that I could get my teeth into but all I could find is jobs that would require me to move to either the east coast or west coast. I can’t move because now I’m on the verge of being ass in the wind broke because of the stupid ass delays. I spent the next couple of days looking around local to my apartment for anything temporary I could do. Lucky me, I found a job as a waitress at IHOP. The pay was going to suck, the hours were going to suck, but if I’m lucky maybe someone will tip me on occasion. My presumptions were right, the money really sucked hind tit, I worked whatever shit shift the other bitches didn’t want to work, but I found that I can increase my tips by increasing the skin I ‘accidentally’ let show to the perves that would come in after church on Sunday.

There actually was a strange cycle of people who came in the doors of this IHOP. I got to see them all because of all the wackity fuck hours I worked 7 days a week. Not only was there a church right up the block but there was a strip bar as well. Come to find out, whether a person was talking to Jesus or spending their money on strippers, they all want pancakes at some point in the day or night. I would always hear the crowds from both places talking about going to the other. I guess everyone has needs. After 7 1/2 months of working at IHOP I figured it was time to call the agency since I hadn’t heard anything. I was not at all fucking happy with the response I got. Not only has the project been cancelled but they were able to place all of the models with new projects except for two, myself and some other skinny bitch. Well, wasn’t this just some special shit. Back to work at IHOP until I can get this bullshit straightened out. One night I overheard two guys talking about how the service at the strip bar was sucking lately because they needed more waitresses. The one guy, a real drunken troll, told me I should go work at the strip bar as a waitress or a stripper, this was his free advice for me, he said the next time I would have to sit on his lap and talk about the first thing that pops up. Interesting proposal, the lap sitting, but from where I stood it looked like it would be a waste of both of our times.

I did, however, decide to go to the strip bar and see what that was all about, after all, anything has to be better than being a waitress at IHOP. I went over to Club X after my shift ended at like midnight so I really didn’t know what kind of job hunting I would be doing but I figured if nothing else I could get fucked up since I haven’t been fucked up face down ass up drunk in quite a while. Fortunately for me I was not beaten down to pay the $25 cover to get in the door. I did explain that I was here looking for work and that might have had something to do with it. Is it strange to feel creeped out feeling like I was being stripped down and fucked mentally by the three completely nude women at the door? I have been eyeballed before but never with such intense passion. Since the manager of the waitstaff was not in I was directed to the next best thing, the head bartender. That is where you first entered my life. If I remember correctly, you told me “to go fuck myself elsewhere because I’m too damn busy to jack with you right now”. I didn’t reply, I just tucked my tail between my legs and asked for a tequila shot. This, I think, got your attention.

After a few hours you had time to talk to me, it was a talk with me walk with me type scenario. I had to keep up with you if we were to talk. After introducing myself to you and explaining why I was here it almost seemed as if you were just a little put off by my presence. You probably won’t ever admit to that will you? You ended up giving me your card telling me to return tomorrow before 5pm and we could talk about my opportunities then. I ended up leaving not knowing if I actually wanted to come back and work for such a dickhead. I slept on it, questioning myself if this is what I wanted to do or would it be best just to turn tail and go back to Raleigh. I was off work that day so I had some time to think about what I wanted to wear to my interview. What does a girl wear to be interviewed at a full nude strip bar. I mean, right, I saw what the other waitresses were wearing and I also saw how much money they were raking in. I just didn’t know if I could deal with the groping hands of drunk assholes all night long. Sure, it might be fun if I was drinking too, but I would be the sober one, I would be the one that had to put up or shut up, and that just might get me in some deep shit. But, I do like a challenge, and this motherfucker was going to challenge me on an entirely new level.

I walked in wearing my tightest jeans, by tight I mean that they rubbed me in all the right ways, so by the time I got there I was ready for anything you could throw my direction. I did wear sneakers because that is what I saw the others wearing. I wore a bikini top as a shirt figuring we could cut tight through the bullshit and get this ball rolling. Little did I know that the interview process was to throw me out on the floor to fend for myself, sink or swim. I think that the 3 hours I worked went without a glitch. I reported back to you as I was instructed, in fact I recall you paging the “f.n.g. waitress to report to the main bar”. I had to ask what f.n.g. meant, I was told it meant “fucking new girl”. Hell, why not just call me Lynn. You told me I could start tonight at $22 an hour plus tip out if I was interested. Fuck yeah I was interested! The last words from you is “the only thing I want to see from you right now is your ass walking away from me”. No, I didn’t take it as a flirt or a compliment, I knew what you meant.

I did this job for the next few years, never looking back, and never considering if I missed the boat with my modeling. One day, out of the blue not too terribly long ago, a man in the club approached me, handed me his card, and asked if I had ever modeled before. I recognized him but he had no fucking idea who I was. He chatted me up for quite a while, I kept declining, telling him he didn’t look like someone I wanted to get involved with, business or otherwise. But, this asshole just wouldn’t take a fuck no with the meaning I was putting behind it so I decided to have some fun with the prick. After talking with a few friends at the club, they decided to help me out because it sounded fun. I agreed to go back to the motel with this loser photographer to let him “check me out” to see if I got what it takes to be a model. It’s code for “I’m going to ass rape you, exploit you, film you without your knowledge, and make money off you while you try to figure out what was in your drink you cunt”. But, we had a different scenario planned, a way different evening is about to happen than what he thinks will play out. What a joke.

He met me at the door of the hotel room with this big cheesy smile on his face. He asked if we were ready and I told him I had to use the little girl’s room first. I opened the door to the room very quietly, letting in my friends who stood in the shadows for now. I walked out of the bathroom butt naked and his eyes lit up like little gold treasures. I eased over to the bed where he directed me to go. As soon as he turned his back to me my friends jumped him, put a black pillow case over his head, zip tied his hands behind his back, and proceeded to rip his pants off. One of my friends whispered loudly in his ear that he was going to make him squeal like the little pig he is. At this point I grabbed my clothes and left the room. I never saw my two friends again and come to think of it I never saw that shitbag of a photographer again either. Soon enough in the next coming weeks I did get another casting call which looked promising to me. I walked out of the doors of Club X one night and have never returned. The modeling gig is great, I will have to send you some postcards from where I am at in Milan when I get a chance. Thanks for reading my story. Sorry it took so long to get to you, you are a hard person to track down. Lynn.”

So, I thought this was a great story worth re-telling. I hope everyone enjoyed as well. Every one of us on this planet has a story to tell of some kind. Personally, I am just glad I have been trusted to do just that, tell everyone’s story as they were told to me. I have met some real interesting people in my life and travels which makes up for all the tools I have had to put up with. Until next time, remember to eat it every day.

What Are Bartender: Untold Stories?

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Welcome to the section where I get to share stories about the great club I worked at in the not so distant past, the interesting industry that I worked in, the array of people I had the pleasure to  meet everyday, and of course being a bartender in a full nude strip bar. Just take a stool and enjoy the beverage of your choice while I share stories and tantalizing tales that have been shared with me and/or observed by me. Now y’all are ready to be “exposed” to the things I’ve heard and the things I’ve seen thru the eyes and ears of a real Texas Bartender while working in a real Texas strip club. One can search around The Sting Of The Scorpion and find a variety of stories directly or indirectly related to Bartender Stories, I encourage y’all to look to the links on the right and click “Scorpion Sting’s Bartender Stories” as this will help to narrow your search.

As a bartender in a full nude strip bar I was witness to many amazing sites, I got to meet many amazing people, and best of all I got to listen to the stories of many people. The incredible challenge I always had was knowing what to do with all of the information that had been offered to me. What do I do? Write a book? Write a movie? Neither, but I did write it all down. I took notes and wrote down triggers so that the stories would come back to me easy. Why do all that? Why bother? Good question, which the stories I will tell will hopefully relay and answer some of those, if not all, questions. In time gone by I had a separate blog dedicated solely to telling stories from my perspective from behind the bar based on my conversations and observations. And, unfortunately I fell victim to some culling of blogs and it became a deleted statistic I chalked up as a great loss. However, as y’all can see here, I have been trying to maintain the tradition of telling my stories. from this point forward I will warn you that the content will become adult oriented and the language as well as the descriptive picture will become a bit more colorful. I’m not the best story-teller, but I try to be a fair story re-teller.

The views and opinions expressed within the walls of this blog section are mine. However, the purpose of this blog section is to re-tell stories I have heard and to tell stories based on what I have seen, so some things will be borrowed to a point. All names have been changed or omitted. Quite possibly y’all might read things here written in a coarse or blunt manner. This will not be done to offend you, however it might be needed at times to relay the true and accurate message. Some of the images you will find in this blog section belong to ME because I took them. Others are assumed royalty free and found publically on the internet. When needed, or asked for, I will include where or who I got the photo from. Please contact me if you have any questions at all about anything you may find here. Please enjoy your stay, return soon and often. Don’t be surprised if the story I tell one day is about you or somebody you know.